


The Bully

by kronette



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:43:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the few stories set in the fourth season.  Consider it...the real reason Worf asked to live on the <em>Defiant</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bully

**Author's Note:**

> I remember I really began to dislike DS9 around the time Worf came aboard, and abandoned the show and the fandom very soon thereafter. Originally posted in 1996.

"Get out of my seat." Worf stood towering over the slight Human, a cold glass of prune juice clenched in one of his massive hands.

Doctor Julian Bashir sighed lightly under his breath. "I'm sorry, Commander, but I am sitting here," the young man politely informed his superior.

The glass of prune juice was slammed down in front of Julian, the contents splashing to the tabletop. "You know I sit here. This is my chair. You are in it."

"Worf," Bashir began calmly, "We're in the Replimat. Here, every table and chair is free for the first who come upon it. I was here first." He turned to look at the Klingon, not flinching as he stared up into Worf's glaring eyes.

"And I will not be bullied from my seat," the doctor stated, with his usual calm defiance.

The Klingon, however, was not used to Julian's quiet defiance, and physically picked him up out of the seat, holding him by the lapels of his uniform. Worf growled, "You will leave my seat _now_ ," before he pushed the Human away.

Grimace in place, Worf sat down huffily in his chair, picking up his juice and taking a sip as if nothing had just happened.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder and Worf grumbled, "I told you, this is  _my_ seat." The hand grew stronger, fingers cutting into flesh, and Worf realized it was not the doctor.

His head whipped around, and he found himself staring into the stormy blue eyes of the station's only Cardassian.

"Commander Worf," Garak said with as much patience as he could muster. "I would like to have a word with you."

"I have nothing to say to you," Worf tossed back, glaring at Julian standing slightly behind Garak.

The fingers cut deeper into his flesh, and Worf let out a grunt of pain. He grabbed Garak's wrist, trying to remove it from his shoulder. Garak's hold didn't lessen; it heightened, and now the Klingon winced with real pain.

"I would like to have a word with you," Garak repeated, his voice laced with steel. "If you'll so kindly come with me..."

"Let go of me, Cardassian!" Worf bellowed, tipping the chair backward as he rose to his feet. Snarling, Worf dropped into a classic fight pose, eyeing his opponent warily.

Garak merely chuckled. "See Julian? I told you he would leave his seat reasonably." Smiling, Garak bowed slightly to the Klingon, and made as if to turn away.

Worf saw his chance and shifted his position to lunge. A split second after Worf moved, Garak had him in a neck-hold, one arm twisted up behind his back. He hissed in the Klingon's ear, "Now, Commander, I have asked you as nicely as I know how. I am now _telling_ you - do not claim something that cannot belong to you. This is a public place and free for all who enter it. Please keep that in mind in the future."

Worf's arm was released, and the pressure against his neck removed. His eyes glowering with rage, he turned to Julian. "Do you always have this Cardassian lap dog coming to your defense?"

Garak stiffened, but Julian held up a hand, stopping any further movement by the Cardassian. The Human stepped up to the Klingon, his eyes narrowed as he explained carefully, " _This Cardassian_ , as you so put it, happens to be my lover. So yes, I guess you could say that he's always coming to my defense. And I come to his. So in the future, _stay out of our way_."

Julian glared one more minute at Worf, then turned abruptly and left with Garak, who let his eyes twinkle at the baffled Klingon.

"I will never understand Humans," he grumbled, snatching up his prune juice and finishing it. He quickly left the Replimat, ignoring the looks and snickers that followed him.

"Sir, I would like permission to live on the _Defiant_ ," Worf announced as he stepped into Captain Sisko's office.

Ze End


End file.
